All Mine
by secretpenname3
Summary: Ah my dear boy, don't you know that it's not good to cast such innocent eyes upon a broken fragment of a man? SasuXnaru


**Yeah I have no idea where this one came from. I am happy to report that I will have the next update for "You've destroyed Me" posted next week. When you're done reading this I encourage you to read my other ones. **

**Disclaimer: Nope, not yet :D**

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"You don't care?"

"Should I have to?"

"One would think you should."

"Oh really? And why is that?"

"She's dying."

"And this should affect me how?"

"She's your _wife_."

"Oh yeah, I had forgotten."

"You're a fucking monster."

"If you want to hurt me sweetie, you'll have to try harder than that."

"Disgusting."

"Funny, she used to tell me those exact words everyday till her face turned blue and those pretty green eyes glowed with fire."

"Fuck you."

"No thank you, I don't fancy blonds, much less blond _men_."

"Die."

"I wanted to, but it seems my _darling_ wife is winning that race."

"Get out."

"All ready considered that option but I find that sitting here on your couch and pissing you off proved to be much more amusing."

"Then I'll leave."

"You know where the door is."

"I hate you."

"And that, my dearest friend, is the closest to love I've ever been."

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She was buried on a Sunday, it was rainy and everyone attending cried their eyes out, shouting to the sky why, oh god why did she have to die? She was a good woman, she was much too young, much to pretty, much too important to bury six feet into the cold unforgiving ground. Everyone reached for her coffin before they stuck it into the ground, tears running down their eyes and sobs racking their bodies. And I? I stayed behind, a little to the side, rain beating down on my body. I shivered and pondered for a moment. Yes she was young, yes she was beautiful. Did I care?

Nope.

Because the moment she was placed in the wet earth, and buried until there was nothing but a dark patch of misplaced earth and a big white grave stone to mark where she's been placed, I was long gone.

Not that anyone noticed, why should they anyway?

I'm _only_ just her husband.

The moment I walked away I knew _his_ eyes followed me, they always did.

Ah my dear boy, don't you know that it's not good to cast such innocent eyes upon a broken fragment of a man? I turn my gaze to the grave that hides my wife away. Hate the shameful death that stole her life from my grasp. Don't look at me.

For I killed her.

And you know it.

But why oh why do you gaze at me with nothing akin to hatred? Why do you look at me so innocently? I killed her you know, I was there that fateful day in the hospital. She was dying you know? And I wanted to help, so I took the pillow that held up her delicate head and placed it over her face, and pushed and held. She struggled, only a little bit though. If you look closely you can see where her nails dug and tore into my flesh. I'm pretty sure if she had the chance she would have screamed so beautifully, but alas, the pillow I held over her face muffled any form of protest.

It was almost a pity.

You don't know how I did it, but you know that I killed her. It was late at night see? She begged and cried for me to stay with her, she was dying. She mentioned that she just wanted everything to be over, that things would come to the end quicker, I was only helping. And now look, I gave her what she wanted, the end. Perhaps she wanted the end of the sickness and not death.

Oh well, we all can't be picky with what we get you know.

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"What did you do?" he demands to know the night after her funeral. I'm sitting in my living room, gazing at her picture, thinking of nothing but the way her eyes grew dark as the life left her. I remember when she was alive and healthy.

She was so fucking annoying. Right down to those green eyes, loud voice, and obnoxious pink hair.

I shrug my shoulders and nurse a class of absinth, illegal was always much better I always say. I bring it to my lips and watch from over the rim of my glass as he sit across from me, hands fisted at his sides, baby blue eyes twinkling in the lights.

I always did prefer blue eyes over green eyes.

"Why did you do it?" he resumes, eyes narrowing but never loosing that oh so innocent gleam. His lips are turned down into a frown, but with his baby like face, to me it seems more like a pout. Like a kitten that hunches its shoulders in preparation to hiss only to turn out looking more cute than scary.

So adorable.

He frowns, ah; I had missed the rest of his questioning, he's angry now.

"Stop being a bastard and answer me." He growls. I smirk and swirl the deadly liquid in my mouth, basking in the sting it gives as I slosh it around. I sink lower in my chair, getting more and more comfortable as the liquid passes down my throat, warming the pits of my cold belly. He stands so suddenly I almost miss it. As he draws nearer and nearer I can't help but notice the way his hips sway as he walks around the coffee table that separates us; lips tight and eyes hard.

He grabs the collar of my shirt and yanks me up, putting his face close to mine and causing me to drop my drink, much to my dismay.

Ah, I think I'm drunk, only a bit, though. Because if I wasn't I don't think I would have noticed just how fucking good his knuckles felt against my throat as he held my collar in such a tight grip.

He snarls in my face and I think I've pissed him off even more because even though his lips are moving, baring his teeth and pink tongue I cant hear anything over the raging storm in my head.

"You never even loved her!" he yells into my face.

"What and _you_ did?" I question back, only to try and dislodge the urge to shoot forward and show him the proper way to move that mouth.

Yeah, I'm definitely drunk.

He hesitates for a moment, baby blues swirling with emotion I'm too shit faced to decode.

"I cared about her more than you did you fucking bastard." He hisses, eyes igniting with fire, gripping my shirt even harder.

The room falls silent and I eye the bottle on the coffee table, licking my lips and finding absolute satisfaction in the fact that I see his eyes follow every movement my tongue makes. Ah, those innocent eyes will never fail to make my blood run hot.

"You're a lair," I begin, running my tongue across my lips one more time, "You say you care about her so much and yet you hid your biggest secret from her." He eyes me cautiously, hands loosening a bit once more and face slowly falling into shock as I unravel his deepest darkest secret.

"What kind of best friend are you?" I drawl, reaching up and gripping his hand in a bruising hold. "Being a man and falling in love with your best friend's husband."

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**Review please! :D**


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